The Boulevard of Broken Dreams
by Stew Pid
Summary: "The joy that you find here you borrow, You cannot keep it long it seems, Gigolo and gigolette, Still sing a song and dance along, The boulevard of broken dreams."-Al Dubin, sung by Tony Bennett
1. Dreams

By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff

A/N: Okay, this is going to be a long A/N because I have a bad habit of rambling especially when I have rambling material and I really do have rambling material now. I needed to explain this fic to those of you who will read it _and_ this long author's note (I should recommend skipping this so that you might still want to read my story, but because I care about you all, I want to warn you). You ever have one of those days where you just don't want to be in the present anymore and you look to while away the hours in the chambers of the past conjuring up sweet memories of childhood winters, but all that seems to come to your mind are those embarrassing memories like when you walked down Lexington Avenue not realizing you had underwear stuck to the Velcro on the side of your jacket? Okay, so maybe you haven't. But I was having on of those days and with the present and past offering no relief I looked to the future. Considering my present, though, my future looks very bleak so I decided to think of another future, a Gilmore future. Normally, I wouldn't even consider future fics. They're too hard and while certain authors have managed them with a skill and ease I find remarkable, I do not pretend to be one of those authors. Therefore, I am writing this and posting this only because of my notorious dedication to pattern and numbers, for I set a goal to write 7 (the famous lucky number) stories before classes start and I would have to stop writing, and time is running out. I do not expect it to yield pleasant fruit (my apologies). Those of you who have read and liked my former fics and who may now be rolling your eyes because you've read my self-deprecatory author's notes before, trust me on this one. I think this time even you'll agree with me. But if you want to take a walk down The Boulevard of Broken Dreams (great Tony Bennett song), escape the memories of Velcro's tragedies, then join me, and continue. And thanks to those of you who supported my idea of advertising toothpaste. =)

Things had certainly changed since she was a sixteen-year-old girl in the small town of Stars Hollow. Now she was going on 21, soon to be a Yale graduate and that much closer to her journalistic dreams. Lorelai and Luke were in a steady 2-year relationship and Lorelai and Sookie were the proud owners of the most successful inn in Stars Hollow, not the Independence. Dean went to the University of Connecticut and was a Huskies all-star, engaged to an Economics major. He and Rory remained good friends, and Rory was even invited to the wedding. Paris was in Harvard and was steadily dating…you guessed it, Brad. Lane was happily attending NYU, and was even taking summer courses so as not to have to spend the summer at home. She was dating a saxophone player she met at the Garage Restaurant & Café. Jess worked assiduously to graduate Stars Hollow in January. He left that same month without a word to anyone, not even his then girlfriend Shane. The only thing he left by way of a goodbye was a note to Luke with his diploma that read, "I'm out. Don't wait up." When Luke had gone upstairs he found a lot of Jess' things were gone and the remaining things were packed. No one had since heard of his whereabouts. In Stars hollow, he was almost completely forgotten. 

A/N: Okay, the author's notes are longer than the story, I know. This was just the preliminary set-up. A very cliché situation. Hopefully as the story progresses it won't be as platitudinous (that is a word that comes very naturally when I write but I can never say it. My tongue gets all tied up. Rambling again. Sorry.) 


	2. Boulevards

By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay.

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff.

A/N: The author's note is that I'm relieving you of an author's note this time. =)

Rory was visiting Lane in New York and after an entire day out they settled down in Lane's room listening to the newest additions to her music collection, which had grown considerably during her time in New York.

"I don't know how I'll ever get all these CDs back to Stars Hollow."

"Five U-Haul trucks should do it. And another one for the rest of your stuff."

"What would I do without you?"

"Make more music together with Tom and never get back to Stars Hollow?"

They giggled in a refreshing return to high school imbecility.

"So what's the update back home?"

"Well, not much since the last time we spoke, uh, three days ago. I really haven't spent that much time there yet. I stopped by for a couple of weeks as soon as finals were over and then I stopped to see Paris in Massachusetts on my way here."

"That friendship is one I will never understand."

"I don't quite understand it either. Though she's really calmed down after she won."

"Won?"

"She went to Harvard and I didn't."

"That's ridiculous."

"No. That's Paris."

"So, any new romances?"

Rory blushed. "No. Nothing like that."

"Don't tell me you're still wallowing over Nick."

"Heck no. Nick was a jerk. I think my only attraction to him was that he shared the name of a Fitzgerald character. But after a while he even got annoying with that."

"You created that monster, though. You should never have let on that you were able to connect the name of Nick Carraway with _The Great Gatsby_. Most people don't remember the narrator's name and so he probably never thought to brag about it before."

"I plead guilty to all charges."

"Is it Dean?"

"Is what Dean?"

"The reason you haven't been able to enter into a serious relationship with any guy since high school."

"No. Dean and I are just good friends now. He's getting married and I'm happy for him. I just have bigger things to focus on. This is my last year at Yale. I have to start planning again for the rest of my life."

"You've been hanging around Paris too much."

"Well, actually, Paris and Brad are quite serious. They're like an old married couple, except Paris is Archie Bunker and Brad is Edith. It's funny."

"It's weird, isn't it? First you think the biggest decision on the rest fo your life is what high school you go to, then what college, then what to do after college, and then for some, who or when or whether to marry. It never ends does it?"

"Well, it'd have to end when you die, right?"

"That's so morbid. You have definitely been hanging too much around Paris."

Lane's roomate entered with a guest, and the tension in the room was immediately felt. Rory Gilmore always had an amazing capacity for tolerance, but if there was one person she could not stand, it was Lane's roommate Amanda. Amanda was another Paris, only lacking in the better qualities. 

"Well, Lane. I better go."

"Why don't you wait for Tom to get here. He'll drive you."

"No. That's okay. I'll take a cab."

Rory quickly gathered her stuff, nodded to Amanda and her guest, and did not even wait for Amanda's withering stare before she hugged Lane and was out the door.

Second thoughts are always wiser and had she waited for them to come to her head, she would have taken up Lane's offer for Tom to drive her. She was still afraid of New York City at night. She waited at the corner for a string of traffic to arrive, holding out her hand to hail a cab. Cars sped by down the street and into the distance, leaving Rory in their apathetic dust.

"Should you be standing here all alone? I hear this is a pretty dangerous corner."


	3. Broken

By Stew Pid
    
    Rating: Should be okay.

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff

Fimiliar words from a familiar voice. Rory turns around and is startled even further by the familiar face. He hadn't changed much at all, and seeing him there at the corner of Washington Square Park, hearing those words spoken once before, made her realize how much she hadn't really changed either, how much nothing had changed.

"Oh my God."

He smirked.

"Now that's someone I've never been mistaken for before. But go ahead. Worship me if you want."

She was still too shocked to sort out any other words, thoughts, or feelings. Finally, she stammered out,

"Wha--what happened to you? Where have you been? You just picked up and left and no one ever heard from you again."

"Thanks for the recap. So you do remember me."

"Of cour—what happened, I asked you."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello. Do you not hear me or something?"

"Go to school here?"

"No. I was just visiting Lane. I go to Yale—hey! I asked you a question."

"Not Harvard? So you're not going to do the whole overseas correspondent thing."

"Yes, I am. You don't have to go to Harvard to do that."

"I know. It's just Harvard was your dream. I say you were borderline obsessed with it. Heck, I would even have called it a psychosis."

"Yeah, well, things change. You still haven't answered my question."

"I guess some things never change."

"Jess!"

"Wow. You even remember my name."

"Where have you been?"

"About."

"About?"

"Hey, you went to fulfill your plans. I went to fulfill my plan. I left Stars Hollow. I live where I live, work when I need money. And here I am."

Rory looked at him, puzzled. Staring into his eyes, she saw he had, in fact, changed, but she realized for the first time the change wasn't recent. She had seen the change in his eyes long before, when she returned from Washington, but she hadn't really noticed it, never stopped to pinpoint it. At that time, she was too busy trying to avoid those eyes. Now she was able to analyze them. They were weary.

"So where are you going?" Jess disrupted her musing.

"Oh, uh, I'm trying to catch a cab."

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm going back to my hotel room. I'm trying to catch a cab in order to get there."

"Where are you staying?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I plan on breaking into your hotel room to steal your credit cards. Come on, I'll give you a ride."

"Hmm. I seem to remember the last time I was in a car with you."

"I finally took that driver's ed class."

"So where's your car?"

"Down the block."

Walking down the corner of Washington Square Park with Jess brought back memories she had spent four years trying to forget. She realized now how unsuccessful her efforts were. She remembered everything down to the shirt he wore and the book he carried underneath his arm. 

"So, you still with Frankenstein?"

""No. We broke up before graduation. We're still friends though. He's getting married."

"Huh."

"You didn't even say goodbye to Shane, to anyone."

"I doubt she or anyone else missed me."

"That's not true," she whispered. He pretended not to hear.

"So what's the new boyfriend like?"

"Oh, he's great. Smart, sweet, funny, kind, invisible."

"Sounds like a great guy. So what is it? You crawled into a shell after Dean or are all the Yale guys jerks."

"I'd have to go with the latter. The latest jerk was this guy Nick Carraway."

"So you date invisible men and fictional characters from Fitzgerald novels. Got it."

Rory smiled, remembering Lane's comment from earlier.

"No. Nick was real."

"So what did he do?'

"It turned out he was only after one thing and when I wouldn't give, he immediately went to someone who would."

"Jerk."

"Yea. It was all right, though. I lost interest in him before then."

"So why didn't _you_ break it off?"

"I didn't know how. I mean, I really didn't have a reason before that point. I just wasn't into him. So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's the new girlfriend like?"

"Here's your ride."

"What?"

"My car."

"It's a gypsy cab."

"You were looking for a cab."

"I was _praying_ for a cab."

"Well, then. I guess I am God. Get in."

He opens the door for her and walks over to the other side to get in. Once inside, he looks into the mirror, sighs inaudibly, and looks over to Rory.

"Could've done more?"

Rory looks down at her hands nervously. She meant those words to encourage, not to disparage.

"It's just for extra cash," he justifies, "It's not a living or anything."

"What? I don't care. This was your plan. As long as it makes you happy."

Was he happy? She looked into his weary eyes. He looked at her through the rear-view mirror.

"What about you, Gilmore. Are you happy?"

She looked into the mirror, suddenly conscious of the weariness in her own eyes. Jess started up the car and pulled out. His question was rather rhetorical. Of course she was happy. Happiness was a word Webster defined while looking at Stars Hollow. Never had Jess seen a town so uncomplicated, so peaceful, so happy. He was glad when he left. He didn't belong there. He just complicated things, got in the way of other people's happiness.

"So where are we going?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Where are you staying?"

"Brooklyn Marriott."

"Keeping up with the Jones's, aren't we?"

"My grandparents refused to have me stay in any hotel that wasn't a Marriott."

"How are the Warbucks doing?"

"Strange."

"I agree, but I'm surprised you'd talk about your grandparents that way."

"No. I find it strange that you ask about people you never even met before you ask about the person you lived with for over a year and haven't seen for four, if you were planning to ask about him at all."

"What's there to know about Luke?"

"You wouldn't know, would you?"

"I would know that he finally worked up the guts to ask your mom out, that they've been driving each other up the walls for two years, that the diner is still in one piece and that he still lives upstairs though he had to invest in a bigger bed. I know he is still partial to flannel and baseball caps and that he now allows for one decoration to be put up in the diner for the town's stupid festivals, something I;m sure your mom put him up to and I have to say I respected him more before."

"Well, he put up a tough fight and it's really hard to strike a compromise with my mom, but he did it. How did you know all of that?"

"I have my sources."

"You left everyone without a word, but you still keep in touch with Miss Patty."

"That's right."

You always did have a thing for her."

"That's not funny."

"Struck a tender cord, did I?"

"All right. Go ahead. Have your fun." 

"No. Seriously, how did you know?"

"Reverse psychology always works."

"Jess."

"Look, I hear things. It's not that hard."

"But how is it that you hear things and no one's heard of you?"

"One way taps."

"Fine. I don't care. I don't want to know."

"Fine by me."

Reverse psychology didn't work on Jess.

"So you do care."

"What?"

"About Luke. About Stars Hollow. You looked to find out about them. You must care."

"Why is it so important to you that I care?"

"It's not."

"So what if I tell you I don't?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

"What if I tell you the only reason I knew those things was because I finally went back to Stars Hollow, unnoticed, just to get back my stuff, and saw all the new happenings?"

"Oh," she didn't understand why that hurt her, but then a thought occurred to her and she grabbed onto hope again. "Then why didn't you take your stuff."

"I did. I didn't come back for all of it. Just some stuff I needed. It would have been impossible to be inconspicuous lugging all the rest of my stuff out."

"That's right." Again she felt the bitter pang of disappointment, but it quickly shifted into a burn of anger. "Why don't you care? I mean, Luke went through a lot for youand you never made it easier. The only time you were doing what you were supposed to turned out to be because you were planning to just high-tail quietly out. You never told anyone you were leaving. You should have at least told the people you cared about, but I guess you don't care about anyone."

"What are you getting on me for? I thought silent exits and no correspondence were two things we had in common."

It hit her all too sharply and they both had to suffer Consequence, coming in the guise of awkward silence. He had remembered after all this time. She left for Washington without telling him and he never heard from her the six weeks she was gone.

"I guess it's different though," he finally broke the silence. "You told the people you cared about."

"Not everyone I cared about."

They were already approaching the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Wow." The sight of the Bridge always impressed Rory. Jess stopped the car and parked. "What are you doing?"

"Come on."

They got out of the car and Rory and Jess walked the pedestrian pass of the Bridge, stopping in the middle to look out over New York. Gentle reader, the hours they passed on the Bridge that night were too special for both of them to be repeated here. Some words are meant to remain only between the two people who exchanged them. It is the stuff of inside jokes, private journal entries, knowing glares and smiles that go unnoticed or over heads. The privacy adds to the beauty of the recollection. I will only give, in terse description with my own words, the recap they gave of all that had elapsed in those nearly four years. Rory graduated Chilton with honors but did not get accepted into Harvard. She was accepted into Yale with a scholarship, and was still pursuing journalism. She visited home often the first two years, and while she still remained very close to her mother, she spent breaks her junior year doing internships in New York, Chicago, Washington, and Boston. While in Boston, she spent a great deal of time with her younger brother David, having officially come to terms with her father. Jess, packed a copy of John Gunther's _Inside the U.S.A. _and Kerouac's _On the Road,_ and traveled throughout the US in an old car he bought before he left Stars Hollow. He took some college courses here and there in different states, but never formally enrolled in any college. He waited tables, drove cabs, cut hair, fixed mechanical appliances, or sold short pieces of fiction to small-time literary magazines, whatever to make a buck. He had seen a lot, and that pretty much summed it all up. 

For the sake of closure I will repeat the last part of their conversation, after Jess had told his story.

"Then I just got tired of wandering around. I wanted to come home. Not sure exactly where that is anymore, or if it is anymore, but for a long time it was here, so here I am."

"Wow. You've done a lot in four years."

"Could've done more." It wasn't a question anymore as he stood next to her, once again conversing with her on a bridge.

"We both could've done more," she affirmed, also feeling that same "what if" question that hung above the two, breathing memories of four years ago that suspend like dreams over the lights of the Brooklyn Bridge. A truck roared over the bridge, and the suspended dreams fell to the concrete and shattered. Rory and Jess woke from their daze.

"We better get back to the car."

"Yeah, it's late, and I'm sure Lane has called my hotel room a dozen times and is probably calling the police right about now."

"Don't worry. They won't start the search 'til next week."

They walked back to the car, and drove on and away from the Bridge. In our youth, we dream fresh dreams and some endure by becoming viable reality, some die instantly, and some linger in the dormancy of practical minds, grow old and eventually die. As we ourselves grow, our minds carry the tombstones of those deceased dreams, and presume to be wiser, stronger because of them, but our hearts are ever "immature" enough to dream again. 

A/N: This was a long chapter, a messy chapter. I hope to clear it up in the following chapters. We shall see. It's a little sad, also, but it'll get brighter, otherwise it's completely useless to me. =)


	4. Dreaming again

By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff

She was standing outside the hotel with her luggage all about her. 

"Would you like me to call you a cab to the airport, miss?" the doorman asked.

"No, that's okay. I'll hail one. I prefer gypsy cabs."

"Yellow cabs are safer, miss. Let me call you one."

"Really, it's okay. I'll be all right. Thanks for your concern," she shakes his hand slipping a bill into his palm. He nods and smiles and walks away.

She was waiting for _him._ She didn't even stick out her hand. Something told her he would come. She watched the cabs as they passed by, looking through the mirror at turban-clad drivers. She was going to miss her bus if she waited any longer, so she stuck out her hand and entered the first cab that stopped for her.

"Port Authority, please."

"Beddy good, ma'am."

As they neared eighth avenue, the driver was about to continue straight down. Noticing this, Rory's fists tightened and she shouted out, 

"Turn right."

"Don't you remember what happened the last time we turned right. Don't worry. I'll get you back home."

With that, she woke up. After hours of apologizing profusely to Lane for causing her to worry, she had collapsed into four hours of dream-plagued sleep. She pressed her eyes with the thumb and index finger of her right hand, and groped with her left hand for her watch. Once she had grabbed the watch off the night-stand, she released her eyes and read the time. Seven-thirty. She figured her mother should be up already, so she grabbed the phone and dialed.

"Hello and this better be my daughter calling at seven-thirty in the morning because if it's anyone else, I'm hanging up on you."

Rory deepens her voice, "It's me. Luke."

"Luke would be very offended by that imitation of his voice."

"Blame it on the lack of testosterone."

"What's up? How's Lane?"

"She's okay. She loves it here."

"She's not coming back to Stars Hollow when she graduates, is she?"

"I don't think so."

"Uh huh. So tell me, did you get mugged yet?"

"No."

"I hear you're not an official New Yorker until you've been mugged."

"That's a horrible stereotype and we hate stereotypes."

"Yeah, like those small-town stereotypes about Stars Hollow, about everyone knowing your business and big man-hungry women and over-the-hill, balding men who wear suspenders and cardigans and loafers. Hey, wait. Those are all true. And what are you talking about? We love stereotypes. Cheerleaders, jocks, blondes, Frenchmen. We love them all."

"Yes, but you have to stop with the cheerleader jokes. That's still a sore spot for Lane."

"But I'm not around Lane, am I? Three cheerleaders walk into a church…"

"Mom!"

"Okay. Fine. So what's this important thing you have to tell me?"

"How do you know I have an important thing to tell you?"

"Hmm. Let's see. It's Saturday. It's seven-thirty. You're calling. You called at seven-thirty on a Saturday."

"Thanks, because I wasn't able to put all that together."

"You know better than to call at seven-thirty on a Saturday for regular conversation and expect me to be coherent."

"I know better than to ever expect you to be coherent."

"Ugh. That hurt. I can't take shots like that at seven-thirty on a Saturday."

"Fine. Is Luke there?"

"What?"

"Oh come on. I'm not five. I know that there's a possibility that Luke might be at our house at seven-thirty on a Saturday."

"Well, I guess if we had a slumber party and spent the night having pillow fights and whip-cream wars, then yes, you might find him here at seven-thirty on a Saturday."

"Pillow fights. Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Okay, I'm officially changing this subject. Why do you want to speak to Luke at seven-thirty on a Saturday."

"Okay, it's officially seven thirty-one. And I don't want to speak to Luke yet. I just want to know if he's there."

"Well, no, he's not here. And what's with the 'yet?'"

"Well, I may need to speak to him, but I need some advice."

"Huh."

"From you."

"Oh, goody. Okay, shoot."

"But first, you have to promise not to freak out about anything I am going to say."

"Can I hear what you're going to say before I promise?"

"Mom."

"Okay. I promise."

"Okay. Well, last night when I was leaving Lane's, I bumped into Jess."

"Jess?"

"Luke's nephew."

"James Dean wannabe, broke my daughter's arm, kissed her and then found some other slut to smack lips with, skipped off without telling anyone and hasn't sent so much as a blank birthday card to the uncle who put up with all his crap, in four years? That Jess?"

"Okay, did we forget about the not-freaking out clause?"

"How could you expect me to be calm about this? That punk hurt the two people I love the most. I have no sympathy for him and I'm not going to give him any favors."

"Mom, you don't understand…"

"No, I don't understand. I don't understand how you can still care about that kid after all he did to you. He doesn't care about anyone…"

"Mom, that's not true. There's a lot you don't know. And Jess didn't kiss me. I kissed him, and then I left for six weeks without telling him, didn't write to him or call him, and I had a boyfriend. I was the wrong one there."

"Look Rory, this is old and I thought we buried the hatchet on this one. I don't want to get into it. All I know is that he left town without even so much as a thank you and good-bye to Luke and he hurt Luke and he hurt you, and I won't forgive him for that."

"You don't understand him. Don't you see, the diploma was his thank you. He didn't even want to graduate high school. He didn't think he'd be hurting anyone. He didn't think anybody would care."

"Because he doesn't care about anyone, he can't fathom that other people might possibly care."

"That's not true. He does care. He went back to Stars Hollow inconspicuously to check up on Luke. He knew about you two and about the diner decoration, about the new bed." She was embellishing on the truth a little, she didn't know why.

"And I suppose the fact that he came back to look at the Holloween banner makes up for all the worry and heartache he put Luke through."

"No, it doesn't. I'm not saying what he did was right. I'm just asking you to try to understand him. He didn't mean to do anything wrong."

Lorelai sighed. After all this time, Rory still had feelings for the one person in the world she completely hated. She recognized that she was not going to be able to change Rory's idea of him, so she had to yield—not accept, but yield. 

"So what's the advice you needed?"

"Whether or not I should tell Luke."

"I'll tell him. So was he okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So what happened?"

"Well, I was trying to hail a cab, but none stopped for me, and then he came. We talked, he offered me a ride. He drives a cab…"

"What state gave him a license? Oh, well, New York."

"That's another stereotype."

"We like stereotypes. Cheerleaders, jocks, blondes, bad boys."

"We hate stereotypes."

"That's right. We hate stereotypes. So continue. What has be been up to?"

"Mostly wandering around, works when he needs money, waiter, barber, repairman, cab driver."

"Great. He grew up to be Kirk. Luke will be glad to hear that."

"It's not like that, mom. You really just don't understand."

"I guess I don't."

"Well, I need some coffee. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, sure."

"Don't forget to tell Luke."

"I won't."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Jess woke up, feeling a brush of hair caress his cheek. If only it was Rory's, he thought. But wait. Who was it? He opened his eyes and found a brownish gray cat balled up next to him on the bed, its tail smacking him once again across the face. He sat up, pressing his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his right hand, pulling the cat closer to him with his left. Once he had firmly cupped his hand under the cat's belly, he released his eyes and got up off the bed. Walking to the window, he climbed out onto the fire escape and sent the cat down the steps to its home. He climbed back into his apartment and shut the window, muttering about the day he would send the cat back down to its home as a bowl of soup.

After showering and dressing, he grabbed a book and was about to head out the door when an overwhelming impulse came over him. He had tried to fight it all night with no success, and so he yielded. He grabbed the yellow pages, walked over to the phone and dialed.

"Hello, could you connect me to Rory Gilmore…I don't know what room she's in. Can't you look that up?…Try Lorelai Gilmore…Thanks."

"Hello. Mom?"

"Now that hurts."

"Jess?"

"No, this is the cab driver from yesterday. You owe me fifteen bucks."

"Damn it. I thought I got away."

"You forget I know where you live."

"So what's up?"

"You hungry?"

"Starved."

"I know a place."

"I hope it's not hot dogs again. It's too early for hot dogs."

"How about pizza?"

"What?"

"I really want pizza. John's of Bleeker Street makes the best pizza but they only sell pies, not slices. You can probably go there on your own and be just fine, but for those of us with only slightly abnormal appetites, it's a bit much. We like to bring friends along."

"Jess, it's eight o' clock."

"You're right. They don't open 'til 11:30. We could hang around in the park and stare at our shoes until it opens."

"I have a better idea. Know a place where they sell pancakes?"

"Yes. Nothing like Luke's though."

"Close?"

"Close to Caesar's."

"Yuck."

"Yep."

"Hmm."

"Actually, there is a place I think you'd like. Food's pretty good. Has a bit of unknown musical history."

"What?"

"Tom's Diner."

"Suzanne Vega?"

"Yep. Not Tom's Restaurant in Manhattan. A lot of people think she was talking about that one because it's near Barnard and where she once lived, but Tom's Diner in Brooklyn has a note on the wall from Vega. You'll see it."

"Oh, that's so cool."

"Pick you up in a half hour."

"Okay."   



	5. Without regret

By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff

A/N: You know, I was reading what I've written so far and I realize there are LOTS of typos and mispunctuation. I think I invented that word b/c there's that evil red line beneath it on Word and it's not in my dictionary. Sounds cool, though, doesn't it? Anyway, point is that despite the vexation these grammatical errors cause me, in the end, laziness wins out and I don't change them. I'm sorry. I don't think they affect understanding too much. While the interest of my readers comes first to me, laziness is a force I can't fight in the summer.

She walked nervously through the doors of the diner, not knowing what she would say or what he would say. Never had she felt this sort of discomfort around him. Their eyes met, and she tried to muster her normal smile, but she failed and he recognized it.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Come on, Luke. You're the first one to sputter off everything that's wrong with me. I drink too much coffee, ingest too much sugar, I buy my toothbrush for the cartoon character instead of for its effectiveness, I watch too many cartoons, I've named too many inanimate objects."

"You avoid the inevitable, you stall, you play around with people's sentences so as not to answer their questions."

"That's right. I do all those things. And still you like me and give me my coffee and sugar every day."

"How would you like your sugar?"

"In the vague shape of a donut."

"Got it."

"Thank you, Lukey."

"Calling people by names that annoy them. That's another thing that's wrong with you."

"The list keeps growing."

Luke brought her coffee and donut.

"Now are you going to tell me what's up?"

"Okay. You need to sit down."

"That bad," he pulled up a chair and sat. "Did somebody die?"

"No."

"Is someone going to die?"

"Possibly."

"Is it you?"

"No."

"Rory?"

"No."

"Me?"

"Not likely."

"This isn't getting anywhere. Just spill it."

"Okay, well, you know Rory's in New York visiting Lane."

"Yeah, stalling again."

"This isn't stalling. This is providing background information. Rory's in New York visiting Lane and she called me this morning to tell me she ran into someone."

"One of those New York punks took advantage of Rory!"

"Well, this does involve a New York punk we both know and…well, we know him, that's for sure."

Luke remained with a confused look on his face until the words finally sank in.

"You're saying Rory bumped into Jess?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how is he? Is he all right?"

"He's fine."

"He's fine."

"That's what she said."

"Well that's just great. I'm glad. Here I am worrying about him every day for four years practically, and he's just fine. Glad to hear that. That's great. Hasn't called to let me know that, hasn't even sent so much as a blank postcard, but that's okay. He's fine. And I guess he never cared whether I died of the heart attack he gave me when I found he never came back home. But that's okay. He's fine. That's great. Really, I'm glad."

"Come on, Luke. You? A heart attack? I think he knew that wasn't possible."

"I just can't believe it. Well, now I know. He just left and he has no intention of coming back. That's great to hear. I guess I can get rid of his stuff upstairs."

"Well, save the books and CDs. Rory might want them if she doesn't have them already. Luke, you're upset. That's understandable. I was upset for you, too, but I got a chance to calm down before I did anything, and I think you should too."

"Oh believe me, this is calm. You wouldn't want to see the furious reaction. Look, I need to get out of here and pick up some things. Tell Caesar to take over."

"Okay, but promise me we'll talk about this later."

"We'll talk about this later."

"Okay."

He gave her a peck on the lips and quickly rushed out the door, letting it slam behind him. Lorelai watched him through the window. She could feel the pain in his heart and an anger rushed to her own. Jess. She always tried to tell Rory he was no good, but she only now was she completely convinced on how right she was.

Another state, another diner, another Gilmore. She was surprised at how comfortable she actually felt with him still, after so many years of not seeing him. In just a half-hour they had already talk about great literature, the fate of reality television, classic comedy vs. the modern sitcom, and why Orzabal couldn't manage without Smith. 

"So then my mom snatched Taylor's gavel and we ran out, and that's how we were banned from the town meetings."

"Huh. And they thought I was trouble. Sounds like Stars Hollow is turning into a fascist circus."

"Yeah. Taylor's going on a real power-trip right now."

"Sometimes I'm glad I got out of there."

"Only sometimes?"

"So what's the bride of Frankenstein like?"

"Okay. Fine. I'll let that one slide. She's very nice."

Jess noticed Rory's bracelet, and took her wrist to inspect it. He had never touched her much, and feeling his fingers lightly resting on her thin wrist, Rory felt her heart skip a beat and butterflies were released into her stomach. 

"She's not jealous that you wear her boyfriend's bracelet?"

"Oh, this isn't the bracelet Dean made for me. I got this in Chinatown."

"Ah."

He took his eyes off the bracelet, but not his hand off her wrist. Her entire somatosensory system was invested in that touch. Someone could have stabbed her in the chest and all she would feel was his thumb over her pulse. Jess too was totally engaged in the physical contact. He didn't know what boldness possessed him to take her wrist, but once he did, he couldn't let go. He counted the beats that pulsed under his thumb, the beats that sustained life within her. He wanted to thank those beats, to kiss them, but then he felt foolish for thinking it. _Listen to yourself. You're such a stupid ass, _he thought to himself. 

The moment was broken when Rory noticed the time.

"Oh no," she gasped.

"What?"

"I'm supposed to meet Lane at Times Square in seven minutes."

"Lane?"

"Yeah. I came here to visit her, remember?"

"That's right." He called for the bill, paid it, and rushed out with Rory.

Jess pulled up around the corner of Times Square so that Lane wouldn't see them.

"Tell her the trains were backed up. New Yorkers always blame the trains."

"Thanks."

"So when do you leave?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"Oh." Rory could not say anything and she couldn't leave the cab. They sat in uneasy silence.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow before you go."

"Okay," she said too quickly. Still, she couldn't leave. Jess imagined she was waiting for him to open her door, so he got out, walked over to the other side and opened for her. As she got out of the cab, rising toward Jess, he cupped his hand under her jaw and kissed her. Second thoughts are wiser, but he couldn't regret not waiting for them.

Lorelai walked back into the diner that evening. Luke was nowhere around.

"Caesar, Luke hasn't gotten back yet?"

"He's upstairs."

"Thanks."

She found Luke in Jess' room, going through Jess' boxes of stuff with trash and recycling bags.

"What are you doing?"

"Just cleaning some stuff out."

"Luke, I thought you promised we were going to talk about this."

"We are. Once I'm done here."

"You're not hurting him by throwing out his stuff."

"I don't want to hurt him. I want this room back. I could do a lot with this room."

"It's true, you could. But you've done nothing with it for almost four years. This isn't about the room. This is about Jess."

"I know it's about Jess. I did nothing with it so that when he came back he would have all his stuff here still. He's not coming back. There's no sense keeping this."

"Luke, you're angry with him."

"I really don't care. He can do whatever he wants with his life. It's his, not mine."

"And you're hurt."

"I'm not hurt."

"Okay. So you're just jamming that box-cutter like that because those cardboard boxes are actually monsters trying to attack you. I think I saw a movie like that once."

"Look, if you're not going to help, why don't you go downstairs and keep an eye on Caesar."

"I'll help." 

She started digging through a box. 

"Hey! I didn't know Jess liked Lenny Bruce. I'm keeping this."

"Why do I have a feeling that instead of lugging this stuff to the trash outside, I'm going to have to lug most of it to your house."

"No. I don't want these pictures of diseased lungs. That kid is sick."

"I got him those. It was supposed to help him stop smoking."

"Okay, so _you're_ sick. That's a distortion of parenthood that I have never seen before."

"Hey, it worked, I think."

"Hey, look at this. Jess put notes in his planner. Let's see. The first day he was here. 'My uncle's insane. Met a pretty cool girl, but her mother's cracked. This town is stupid.' Hey, that pretty cool girl had better not be Rory because I'm not cracked. Maybe he was talking about Lane and Mrs. Kim."

"He was talking about you."

"How would you know? You're insane." She flipped some pages and read another entry. '"Liz hasn't called for two weeks, not that I'd speak to her. Rory has a boyfriend. I hate this frickin' town.'"

Turning over some more pages,

'"Home sweet home. I'm such a stupid screw up.'"

She considered and flipped over some more pages.

'"Luke's all right, I guess.'"

Luke shifted uneasily.

"You shouldn't be reading that."

"I guess not."

He snatched the planner from Lorelai and threw it in the trash bag.

"I'm going to start bringing these bags downstairs."

He stood up, took the bags, and left Lorelai staring around Jess' room at remnants of the Jess she never knew. 

Outside, Luke arranged the garbage neatly, lingering there, wondering if he would regret this someday, or if he already did.


	6. Shattered schemes

By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff.

A/N: Aah! I'm losing it. The pressure of the future fic is crushing me. I'm gasping for air. Somebody help!! Drama over. I hope you like this chapter. I don't. (Hey, self-depreciation is what I won my crown for.)

She waited, ready to jump at the phone should it ring. It didn't ring last night. It hadn't rung all morning. There were no messages when she returned from the afternoon with Lane. She folded her clothes, looking up at the clock, growing angry with every second. Why would he do that? Why would he kiss her and not call her at all? He knew she was leaving and that she didn't have his number. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe he didn't care about anyone. Maybe he enjoyed hurting people. As soon as the thought came to her head she had to silence it. It was just anger talking. She knew him better than that. But why wouldn't he call? Why did he kiss her in the first place? She was about to ponder that question when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Somebody call for a cab?"

"Jess."

"I've been called by that name, among others."

"I thought you would call sooner."

Silence on the other end.

"I have to leave in an hour for my bus."

"Port Authority?"

"Yeah."

"Need a cab?" 

She didn't have to see the smirk to know it was there.

"Nah. I think I'll walk."

"Fine by me."

"Good."

"So I'll pick you up in an hour?"

"Yes, thank you."

"All right."  
As soon as she places the phone back on the receiver, it rings again.

"Hello."

"It's me Lane. When do you need us to pick you up?"

"Oh, that's okay. I have a ride."

"What?"

"Uh, yeah. Luke's coming down to pick me up."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He was coming down here anyway to bring over some stuff."

"Oh, I get ya. Okay. Well, thanks for coming down. I'll see you when I go back home."

"Yeah. So I'll talk to you later."

"Of course. I'm going to miss you. Bye."

"Bye."

She hated having to lie to Lane, but this was one case where lying was the better option. She'd tell her everything once it had all passed. Nervous energy complicated her packing. Books that had fit so nicely into her duffel bag before now protruded haphazardly, not allowing the zipper to closer over them. In the middle of her Battle of the Bulk, the phone rang. She grunted in frustration.

"Hello."

"Hey, babe."

"Oh hi, mom. What's up?"

"Just wanted to make sure you were on schedule. Did you fit all your books in the duffel bag?"

"Not yet. They're giving me a hard time."

"You're 56 seconds behind schedule. Zip that bag up and sit on your suitcase now."

"Since when did you become Mrs. Punctuality."

"Since I started going out with Mr. Punctuality."

"Please. In the time you and Luke have been going out, Luke has changed more than you have."

"I'll have you know that I now eat baby carrots."

"Dipped in chocolate, I'm sure."

"They taste so much better that way."

"Everything tastes better in chocolate."

"They should make a chocolate version of coffee."

"They did. It's called hot chocolate."

"Oh. That's right."

"So, uh, did you, uh…"

"I told him."

"What did he say?"

"You know, why don't we talk about all this when you get home? Make sure you get those books straight."

"Yeah. I will. I'll see you later."

"Yep. Bye."

Mr. Punctuality's nephew proved to be just as punctual. He was already outside and in front of the car when Rory came down. He helped her put her things in the trunk and they mounted the cab and drove off. The first ten minutes of the ride were silent. Jess was not perturbed, but Rory was a nervous wreck searching for something to say before Port Authority showed itself through the window. 

"So you have nothing to say?" she finally hissed.

"Ooh. Stern face. What? I'm listening to the game," he said as he pushed up the volume on the radio.

"Turn that off!" Rory demanded.

"What is your problem?" he asks, pretending naiveté, shutting off the radio.

"Do you have any recollections of yesterday?"

"I have very good recollections of yesterday. What's your point?"

"You kissed me."

"I did."

"What did it mean?"

"Do you have to analyze everything?"

"A kiss like that deserves some explanation."

Jess remained silent, staring blankly at the road ahead of him. Rory fell back dejectedly on her seat. He wanted to tell her. He had the maturity to be honest, but not the maturity to be blunt.

"You ever have one of those dreams that you don't really want to wake up from but you know you have to because your alarm's going off and you're already sort of awake but not really? You're in that semi-conscious state where you could fall back to sleep and continue the dream or wake up and go about your business. You know you have to wake up, but still you indulge in a few more moments, and it's even better because now you're dreaming consciously, and then you say good-bye to the dream, you wake up, and you do what you have to."

"Yeah, I guess I've had that. I usually don't indulge in the few more moments because I'll have a class in twenty minutes."

"Well, let's just say yesterday I indulged. Now today, I say good-bye, I wake up, and I do what I have to. That make any sense?"

"Yeah," she blushed. 

The air became thick with the confession, and neither Jess nor Rory could open their mouths to utter anything more. They pulled up in front of Port Authority. Jess was about to get out and unload the trunk when Rory grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Come back with me to Stars Hollow."

"Why? 

"Why not?"

"This is where I live, where I work."

"I think New York could manage with one less cab driver."

"Look, Rory. I know what you're trying to do here. You want me to go back so you can pretend this is senior year of high school again and not college. And everything will go back to how it was then and maybe you'll get a crack at saving me again so that I can be this great guy that your mom will approve of and the town will love, and you won't have to be ashamed of whatever feelings you may have for me. It's not going to happen, Rory. This is just how it is."

His words hurt her and he knew it. He had to be harsh with her so that she would hate him and leave and never think of him. If they should meet again, he didn't want her to remember him. It was what he had to do.

"So that's what you think I want? That's what you think of me?" 

Her eyes flared at him. A man came up to the window next to her.

"Hey lady, you going to marry the driver or are you going to let someone else take the cab?"

"I'm sorry. I'm leaving now." 

He finally saw her withering stare, directed at him, as she got out of the cab. She unloaded her luggage while the man got into the back seat of the cab. As soon as her things were out and she had closed the trunk, Jess sped off. 

Home, sweet home. Throughout the bus ride, Rory tried successfully to forget about her experience with Jess, the good and the bad. She was glad to be home. She walked into Luke's, knowing Lorelai was already waiting with a cup of coffee and a Danish.

"Welcome back! Here you go." Lorelai slid down the mug and the pastry.

"Thanks. It's so good to be home."

"Hey, Rory."

"Hey, Luke. How've you been?" she asked, meaningfully.

"Not bad, really."

"Good."

Kirk entered, hauling a desk.

"I've brought it this far and that's as far as I'm carrying it."

"That's all right. That's just fine."

"What's this?" Rory asked Lorelai.

"A desk for Luke's office."

"Luke has an office?"

"He will. He's going through an identity crisis. He thinks he's important."

"Huh. So where is this office going to be?"

"Jess' old room. Luke cleared it out this weekend."

"Oh."

"Oh? That's it."

"Yep. I mean, Jess isn't going to need it, so Luke should make use of the space."

"Look, Jess isn't coming back so what did you want Luke to do? Keep the room exactly like it is, peek in every night to see if he came back, pine away until he loses his mind and starts cutting up body parts to assemble a replica of Jess. He had every right to make use of the space."

"I just said that."

"I know, but I spent so much time and saw so many Hitchcock movies trying to think up that speech and, by George, I was going to say it."

"It's a good speech. It would've won me over. A little over the top with the cutting body parts, but I understand. The Hitchcock movies."

"Right. Thank you."

"No problem."

Lorelai inspected Rory curiously, trying to figure out what would have caused the change. She smiled, content, watching Rory sip from the mug. She must have finally woken up and smelled the coffee.

A/N: Last line stupid, but I figured, it has the waking up/sleeping/dream connotation and the coffee thing which is just a funny Gilmore allusion. The last two chapters haven't been my best stuff in terms of banter. It's just that once I get into banter, I get carried away, and it ends up making the story longer, and when I'm enjoying writing the story, it's no problem, but this is too much stress. Figuring out other people's future, I have learned, is just as hard as figuring out your own. 


	7. Where you'll always find me

By Stew Pid

Rating: Should be okay

Disclaimer: I only own the Stew Pid stuff

A/N: Last chapter!! 

It was a peaceful morning in Stars Hollow. An early morning shower seemed to have washed away the memory of the events of two weeks ago. The fresh, soft morning sunshine rested comfortably and casually on the desk, tools, and cabinets of Luke's office giving them a familiar, homey look, as though they had always furnished the room. The darkness in the storage room hid the items Jess left behind that Luke could not throw out, and the memory of Jess was hidden in a similar obscurity in the hearts of the three, Luke, Lorelai, and Rory. From a bird's-eye view, Stars Hollow had a dream-like, utopia look to it, and down below everyone wanted to pretend that that was exactly what it was. _Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream_, they might as well have been chanting in their heads. But the birds knew more than they did, for as they had just begun to breathe easily in the happy land of Oz, the birds could see that coming down the road was the car that many times had parked quietly just outside of town, where its young driver would check up on the people and place he left behind, and seemingly, never returned to. 

"Hey, honey buns!" Lorelai exclaimed as she entered the diner with Rory.

"What did I tell you about pet names?"

"I wasn't calling you. I was placing my order."

"Oh. Well. Coming right up."

Lorelai looks at Rory and they giggle.

"So what's on the agenda today?"

"I'm baby-sitting for Sookie."

"What? Where is she going that she didn't invite me?"

"She and Jackson are going out for their anniversary."

"Oh my God!! Today's their anniversary?"

"I reminded you three times the other day."

"Huh? That was two days ago. You expect me to remember something you said three times two days ago?"

"Yes."

"You don't know me at all."

"I know you well enough to know you were probably going to forget so I picked up an extra just-in-case anniversary present."

"I love you. What did you get?"

"A karaoke machine."

"Okay, _you're_ giving them that. I refuse to be responsible for it."

"Hey, I thought it was a good idea. You know every time they go away, Jackson worries about his fruit because he can't sing to them. Now he can sing with the machine and record it and when he goes away, he just plays the tape. The fruit will never know he's gone. Jackson will be happy. He'll be more comfortable with going out more often, and Sookie will be happy."

"Rory will have to baby-sit more often and she won't be so happy. But I really like that idea. I'll give them the karaoke machine."

"Okay, but what are you talking about? I love baby-sitting those two."

"Wait a second. When you go back to college, I'll be stuck baby-sitting the rascals. What do you say we get them something else, like a nice blood-pressure machine?"

"Remember when Sookie got you the "I'm Too Sexy" song on CD, even though you had already annoyed her enough with that song and she knew that now she really would never hear the end of it. And anyway, who are you kidding? You love baby-sitting them and you know it."

"Who raised you? I know it wasn't me."

"Sugarplum fairies and dwarfs."

"Well that explains it."

Luke comes over with coffee and honey buns.

"It's amazing how this town can have dozens of stores dedicated to selling collectible plates and yet it has not one mental institution. I'm going to have to book you two in Hartford."

"You don't realize it yet, but you're becoming one of us."

"Oh, trust me, I realize it. I have nightmares about it." 

"You have nightmares of doing your nails, while drinking coffee, eating Twizzlers, and watching _Willy Wonka_?"

"No. But I had a nightmare where I was looking frantically for something but I didn't know what it was, and then I realized it was my sanity. I'm sure you must have had one of those."

"No. We stopped looking for that a long time ago," Rory interjected.

"It's true. It's probably beneath the couch with all the Goobers we've dropped under there and my mother's pen. But speaking of losing things, I lost my favorite silver earring in your office. Have you seen it?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I kept forgetting to return it. I'll get it."

Luke heads upstairs.

"So you lost an earring in his office?" Rory inquires, smiling.

"Yeah. The silver one with the dangly things."

"Uh huh. I guess those pillow fights can happen anywhere."

"No, no, no. We were cleaning. Who do I look like? Monica Lewinsky?"

"Well, you've sort of got the same hair cut."

"That's it. I'm definitely giving Sookie and Jackson that karaoke machine."

Luke walked into his office, head down, retrieving the earring efficiently from a small side table. He was about to walk out the door again when a voice from the desk startled him.

"I like what you've done with the place."

He looked up, startled. Jess sat at the desk, leaning forward.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too."

"Don't give me that. You left for four years without telling me or anyone, and I hadn't heard from you or about you until two weeks ago. So if I'm not exactly teeming with joy, well, too bad."

Jess remained silent, shuffling a deck of cards in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Luke finally asked again.

"Just wanted to say hello."

"You come to say hello after four years?"

"I'm moving back."

Luke was stunned into silence once again. His first impulse was contentment, but anger quickly pushed it down. 

"You don't have a room here anymore," the words were intended to hurt and they did.

"I wasn't looking for one here." He wasn't. 

Neither knew what more to say. Rather, they knew. They just didn't know how to say.

"I'm sorry," Jess finally said. It was as blunt as it could be.

"Why didn't you at least call once and let me know you were okay?"

"I had a reason then, but I don't know now."

"You've grown a lot." Physically he hadn't, but he didn't mean physically.

"Maybe. Not enough."

"I've got some of your stuff downstairs. I'll try to buy your bed back from Kirk."

"You don't have to do that."

"No, I don't. I've got my old bed still. Come on. Let's bring your stuff back up here."

"Maybe later."

"You're going to have to talk to her at some point."

"Later."

"All right. Well, I have to return this."

"You got your ear pierced?"

"No. Heck no. It's Lorelai's."

"Oh," he smirked, "I get it."

"I take that back. You haven't grown at all."

Later that day, Rory walked back to Luke's tired from an afternoon with toddlers. As she approached the diner, she saw a familiar car outside. She stopped in her tracks, staring at it with the pale astonishment customary of visions of ghosts. If more surprise was possible, it came when Jess himself appeared, approaching the car to gather more of his stuff.

"Jess!" she thought she screamed it, but her throat was so tight, the word was barely audible.

"Hey," he said casually, though his knees felt like clumps of lead.

"You're back."

"Way to state the obvious."

"Why?"

"Just wanted to."

"I thought you said good-bye and woke up and all that."

"I never said good-bye."

"No, you didn't."

"There are some dreams too good to wake up from, but then I guess, there are some dreams too good to sleep through."

"Welcome home."

With that, they kissed with all of Stars Hollow watching through the windows of Luke's.

"So I think I finally figured out the_ Fountainhead_."

"Pray tell."

They walked off, shoulder to shoulder, back to the places where four years seemed to have not passed. Still, they would not have gotten there without those four years.

This, dear reader, is my parents' story, a story I never tire of hearing them tell, and so I thought I'd share it with you. This is the story about a girl who never lost her faith in dreams, and a boy who had to lose it in order to find it. The boulevard of broken dreams. That's where they found each other. That's where the dream came true. 

A/N: Aaah!! Okay, at least it's over now. I know, the last part was stupid, but it was such a time saver. I don't have to go into how they dated for a while, got engaged, got married, had kids, and all that. Just make it that the kid told the story, and all that is understood. I guess you've never met my alter ego, Snee Key. We don't get along very well, but sometimes we're forced to work together.


End file.
